


Twelve Years

by phrenitis



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrenitis/pseuds/phrenitis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey falls in love with her forever, from the very beginning and every day following though he's the last to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twelve Years

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays to the fandom, and most especially to the fabulous [Ana](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7087348/annnahatcher)! Cheers to Harvey/Donna in 2016!

i.

When Harvey thinks back, it's really no surprise that Gordon figured it out first. Too early, of course -- he knew Harvey better than Harvey knew himself -- but Gordon always appreciated the build behind a complex composition.

"A woman like that will change your life," Gordon says when Harvey picks up the phone.

"Who?" Harvey asks, and then he remembers who first answered the call. "You mean Donna?"

"I like her."

"You like everybody." Harvey glances over at the doorway, but he can't see Donna's desk from this angle.

"I'm a people person," Gordon explains affably. "You know, you could learn a thing or two..."

"I'll pass." It's familiar banter and there's no malice. "It's why I have Donna."

A week into this new arrangement and Harvey can't even remember his old assistant's name. He's never been more organized, more charged. Donna is already worth her weight in gold.

"Son, after a five minute chat, I already know she's going to be much more than that."

"Just tell me when I should send out our 'save the date'."

Gordon chuckles. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

==

ii.

"You're still here?" Jessica asks, and Harvey looks up in surprise to see her in the doorway. He glances at the time, curious why she's standing in his office so late.

"It's only nine," he answers. "What about you? Worried about the case?"

"I'm trusting you have that in hand."

Harvey signs the Rutledge contract and sets it to the side with a shrug. "It's an easy win. This paperwork is just formality."

"You know you could hire an associate," Jessica reminds him.

"And mess with perfection?"

She gives a wry smile. "You need people, Harvey."

"I have Donna."

Jessica nods, agreeing to that point. "A good thing, too. I heard about the Campelli offer."

Harvey should have known she'd get word of that, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "It's been handled."

"That's a half a billion dollar contract. You didn't think I should know about the marriage proposal?"

"It wasn't you she wanted to marry," Harvey points out, but he briefly holds his arms open in apology as he leans back in the seat. "It had no bearing on the deal. They're even adding the subsidiaries and new acquisitions into the terms now."

"And the widow?"

"Well, disappointed in my answer."

Jessica smirks. "Of course."

"And out there on a date with the new future Mr. Campelli."

"In other words, it was Donna that saved this deal, and your ass," Jessica clarifies.

It's not the first time, and it's unlikely to be the last, although what Donna accomplished this time was no small feat. Harvey glances through the glass wall of his office, but Donna doesn't look his way.

"You know she's probably listening," he shares.

Jessica looks unconcerned. "Then hopefully the comment won't go to waste."

He watches Donna type something into the computer, and this time he can see the hint of a smile.

"I thought you could use this," Jessica continues and hands him a slip of paper. It's a signed bonus authorization form.

"You didn't date it," he notes.

She smiles knowingly. "I have a feeling this won't be the only time you need it."

==

iii.

Harvey knows he's somewhat short-tempered, on edge and looking for arguments without Donna at the firm to pacify him, but Mike puts it more bluntly.

"Jackass."

Harvey blinks. "Excuse me?"

"That's according to Edgar Springs. I'm just conveying the message," Mike explains though he doesn’t sound apologetic. "But if you don't get a handle on this, I'm sure he can come up with something worse."

"I pay you to convey _my_ messages to _him_ ," Harvey says, and shuts the case file in front of him closed with more force than necessary. "We could always change that arrangement."

Mike sighs. "Look, Harvey. It’s been a week. You need to talk to her."

Harvey feels the way his jaw clenches at the shift in the conversation. He hates to admit he doesn’t want to do this job without her, that worse, she’s been fired for trying to protect him.

"I tried," he says dismissively. "There's nothing more I can say."

"Maybe that's not what she wants," Mike contends.

All week Harvey has felt Donna’s absence more than he’d like, fear and loss vying for control so he doesn’t dwell on the need he’s surprised to find beneath.

When he doesn’t say anything, Mike continues. “Harvey, she did this because you mean something to her. Now you have a chance to show her she means something to you."

Harvey shakes his head, not wanting to discuss it further. "That's enough. Get back to work, Mike."

The kid is smart enough not to argue, but he lingers around for a parting comment. “If you don’t do anything, this is how it ends.”

==

iv.

It's a stupid thing, really, the moment.

Everything with Donna matters, everything a slow burn and myriad realizations over myriad situations. So Harvey falls in love with her forever, from the very beginning and every day following though he's the last to figure it out. Or, second to last; that's another story.

But "I'm _in_ love with you" turns into "I love you" with all the years between. It becomes a quiet thing, a constant and familiar feeling until he forgets it's there. What he says later is "I love you" because it's still true when he digs the words out of that silent space, but it means something different. It's a phrase without expectation.

The moment though, the one that happens in an instant... well, it's not what he expects.

It isn't when Harvey thinks to give her a key to his place -- that's too early. The key is just a necessity born of long hours, last minute work engagements, and Donna asking him one too many times if he really wants to go to the meeting or the courtroom wearing _that_.

It's also not when he eventually does give her the key -- although that's mostly because, as anticlimactic as he wanted it to be, there was certainly nothing left in the moment after she shared that she'd already copied his key months earlier.

In fact, it's much later. Fast forward two years, three, four, and it hits Harvey when he's walking down the hall and unintentionally overhears Louis recording something inane on his dictaphone. Something about watering a blooming pomegranate. Something about getting Donna a key.

So, it's stupid -- Louis, a dictaphone, and a strange pomegranate -- but then Harvey suddenly remembers Donna and _his_ key. How she never gave it back when she stopped working for him. How, even now, he doesn't want her to give it back.

And that's it, the moment. It's a realization that he wants her to still have his key.

But more than that, it's the understanding that "I love you" isn't what happens after "I'm in love with you". But rather, they continue to coexist -- want a part of need, belief a part of trust. He loves her because he's in love with her.

He knows Dr. Agard would be pleased with this development.

==

v.

"It can mean what you want it to mean."

Donna doesn't even glance up from the files she's sorting. "What?"

Harvey clears his throat as a furious internal debate nearly ends with him changing the topic or walking away. This isn't really Thursday afternoon conversation, but he's owed her the reasoning for awhile and there’s nothing left to lose.

His pause to think proves too long and Donna looks up. "Harvey?"

"Love," he explains, and is surprised he can hear himself over the loud beating of his heart. It's much easier to say than he expected given what happened the last time.

Donna looks surprised. "Love?"

"Right."

"Love," Donna repeats slowly like she's still putting the word into context.

"Yeah."

She hesitates and he knows she's flustered. Love is not exactly a word they throw around in casual conversation, and it's been pretty much completely off limits since she moved to Louis' desk.

"Are you okay, Harvey?" she finally asks. "What's going on?"

“When I told you I love you,” he says, forging ahead although it’s an incredibly awkward conversation to have at work over the copy machine, “it was the truth.”

She regards him quietly. “I know, Harvey.”

“You asked me what it meant. It meant everything.” He’s had better timing, but what the hell. “It can mean everything,” he adds.

Harvey sees the flicker in her eyes when what he’s saying sinks in, but Donna seems remarkably composed otherwise. He thinks he feels relief, but it’s mixed with too many emotions to tell for sure.

Donna takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything. Still thinking it through, maybe. The silence is terrifying.

“So the ball’s in my court,” she says eventually. That’s not what Harvey intended, but he supposes it’s one way of looking at it, and to his surprise, he actually thinks Donna might be about to smile. 

He takes the gamble. “I figured I’d held on to it for long enough.”

Donna nods thoughtfully, but he definitely sees a smile. It’s an acknowledgement, a forward step, and he’s suddenly happier than he’s been in a long time.

“Okay,” she says, pauses, then, “okay. I just… I need some time.”

“There’s no pressure,” he reassures her.

“Twelve years seem fair?” she teases.

“I love you, Donna,” Harvey admits freely, exhilarated rather than frightened by the fact. “And I can already tell you, twelve more years isn’t going to make any difference.”

 

_-Fin_


End file.
